a day in the life of piano monkey

early mountain walk today. instead of the early snow, it was a proper autumnal rain. perhaps fall rain. falling down. everything. leaves. raindrops. time. at 645am, with clouds, it is rather dark and quiet. friday concert evening last night, so there have been much joyous activities at the living room of farrally, with the pulsing breathing fire at the fireplace, the living beat of the the community (as far as i am concerned, that is where it's at, not at m/s building or huts). it wouldve been quite fun to join them and ride the wknd excitement train. there are millions of concerts (or it seems) so i guess i wouldve been forgiven quite easily for missing the concert (i missed both concert and festivity). but sometimes there are times that just cannot be any different. my reason: as i was soggy from another dimension. so another time of being an outsider. however, this time, out of necessity. i had a conversation from a long-time acquaintance. we used to be friends but nothin

ive been thinking and looking up on random things, or what may seem very random, but true (i have silly feeling that's all im going to do with life and hence not accomplish anything 'serious' and 'grown up', sigh). and one of them is maypole dance. well, dont worry, im not a pagan. they probably tell me that im not cool enough to be pagan or wiccan. sigh. oh the overeducated solitary monkey. true, i dont have dreads, dont have a strictly doctrinated consumer/diet guide or funky clothing but most importantly, i just never have this absolute devotion or conviction, even belief in anything. whenever something turns into religion and becomes self-martyr of a sort, i kinda.. start.. to walk.. backward.. fast and unsure. recipe for disaster. pāgānus(rustic, of country)(non militant civilian)(non-christian, as christians were hot about being this soldier of christ idea), paisent(peasant), πάγος (rocky hill), pag- (fixed, as of pact, stake, pole, etc).. words words words

1630 rolston@banff ctr, 28.10.09. well, okay, not exactly at 1630. but close to 1630, monkey`s going to attempt something that is fairly new and strange, wonderful and peculiar. beethoven cello sonata no. 4 is on schedule for the banff space audience, a la classical. there are some things in life that i perceive as `very cool`but then somehow gets to be on the bottom of `must to do` list. what makes the distinction? i am not too sure but usually i think it has to do with either with amount. of sheer work that is necessary or the risk factor. i understand that no one wants to look like an idiot. though every village if not every house certainly needs one. i volunteer frequently because it`s always easier to volunteer (you look like a hero) then being designated as (you look like a loser). but today would be a bit different me thinks. since i got here this fall, ive been working with conqueror bear cub cellist. barely different from the outside, this bear cub is closer to a bulb in

about two-three years ago, you couldnt pay me to use a cell phone. and there are things i just wont be doing with technology though i do appreciate some things with new technology. and some of them becomes a lifeline of sorts. right now, skype is a big part of my life. free calling (WHEN IT CALLS) to europe. great. the time differences usually bites. so to call gmt and not cause shortage of sleep deliberately, i usually be seen wearing my tin hat and string-can phone around 4-530pm mountain time (thats pumpkin hours in gmt), catching glimpse of mr. salamander's fire through the window. the funny thing is that now that he's got a G3 phone, he can connect to skype and work with the phone if he happen to be away from his terminal. so the usual point of communication for mr. salamander would be: kitchen computer, a little asus often in the basket, once in awhile bbc studio terminal and the smartypants G3 phone. it is that G3 phone that flakes out sometimes. for no reasons at

when the pessimist comes out, the entire world is covered by his shadow. sink. sunk. fed to the wolves of the night. there are many different ways describe one's emotional state and it is amusing (to me) that i always have so much more to say when i am feeling negative (in a conventional sense). i used to think that it is hilarious to look at introductory level language books. around some random chapter, usually anywhere between chapter 2-4, there comes the unnecessary greeting parts. the words and context differs at times, but basically it goes something like this: A: hello B: hello A: how are you? B: i. good, and you? ii. it's alright, and you? iii. could be better, and you? no textbooks i have seen so far goes into the actual reply for less-than-optimal situations. and i figure it's probably because i. no one is expecting you to possibly take a stab at discussing one's darker feelings- in a foreign language ( ! ), or ii. the words and syntax that may be req

after a night of somewhat low-quality sleep and aftermath of a performance anxiety, i set out for a walk this morning. no where in particular. letting my foot to land where they need to, as long as i dont fall of, it would be alright. and i thought perhaps i will head to the silence of the morning mountains, as it was set ablaze for no longer than 5 minutes, inverted cloud and fire. burn burn burn. while everyone's either burying their faces in the pillows for that extra 5 minutes of sleep or busy watching out for their own steps and graveyard holes of various sorts, the mountain burned, as if it laughed at the small troubles of mankind, always there, renewed by the morning. as the glory of morning will not be fazed by a simple dilemma about- daily musings. somehow monkey ears needed stimulation not rest. quick turn to the south. following the lowland trails, down and roundabouts the curved paths, now covered with fallen leaves, like the golden brick road to oz, but even more

it is a bizarre feeling to be surrounded by so many people and feel completely alone. perhaps a better expression would be being an individual. in the banff spaceship, there are many characters and it is very enjoyable to interact with such variety on daily basis. at the same time, often, i cannot help feeling a bit like a one drop of oil on surface of water. i dont mix. damn. the survival of the human being was dependable on a few but very important principles: food, shelter, procreation. just like single cell bacterias, though they may go through asexual reproduction process. and in order to accommodate that, we developed as a herd animal of a sort. humans have a rather long pregnancy and infancy, which make it necessary to have a group support to protect its young. so still to the days of 21st century, there are a few things that are deeply engraved in oneself, such as the need to belong to a society, have companionship, be understood/to understand, etc. as much as one scream

progress report: week 4 monday morning@ banff ctr for arts projected dates till the big tin can ride: 9 weeks work-related accountable things of notice: 3 recording sessions, 1 concert appearance. nice and easy so far this time. :however needs to get on to a rather new stylistic language: classical performance. though much laughter and fun is related, still needs to actually learn/do stuff. physical damages: minor discomfort on right foot (previously broken, probably aggravated by recent dealings with snowy trails and pedaling without shoes). :smashed right hand 4-5 with unsettled clicky piano bench. ouch. too late. :fingers: skin cracking (too dry. super glue time) mental dealings: a hint of inadequacy regarding performance level (should take a chill pill and take one step at a time) : meeting new people and making personal connections (a few with real potential for growth into real friendship, a few with intriguing if not complimentary situations, others are provoking and interesti

promised chinook have returned to warm the frozen ears and piggies of banff residents. the ground melted and have shown what kind of things ice was busy gathering- children's treasure: rocks, branches, odd trinkets and sparkling bits of things. and they are left in very nice neat piles over the gentle dents on the sidewalks. as nature called, ice just left its toys where they are and went, probably hoping to come back to play with them later. the white snow carpet that hides no one's track also have disappeared. now everyone can walk anonymously again, not being able to be tracked. just muddy tracks and small pebbles underneath the socks. how did they get there every time? only tracks that are left are left with some definite sense of pride: like gigantic pile of animal-processed plant fibers that one finds in the trails. the trees have shed their icy fleece on the top of the mountains, baring its barks, tough and resilient, cracked in various rhythms. i kind of like the

sometimes i think what i say is brilliant (smarty pantsy brilliant that is). and sometime it totally blow chunks. it blows chunks so bad that it puts the yard shredders to shame. it's like: oops, shit, did i just really say that? hmm. i would like to take that back please. ah.. alas, it's turned into feed for mockery did it? fine, feed me to the wolves! i can take it! go ahead! you cold cold world! then someone goes: dude, chill out. that shit's funny. and i go sit my ass down and that's that. i wonder why i am speaking in such a tone today. hmm. perhaps it is the cheeeeenok (well really spelled chinook)- it's warm enough, my nonexistent balls are dropping (ahh warmth) and now im talking like a true trashy teenage man. soon enough i be looking for the invisible stack of porn as well. oh my gawd. really. monkey, stop. but then it's kinda hilarious. may be i will let it go for now. till it gets really unruly. like.. if i start to have body odour or something, ha h

let's face it. wagner was a mad man. a decandent mad man. not only he required the finest things in life (multiple silk pants and jackets, carpets deep enough to cover ankles, the rooms sweltering hot and curtains drawn so that he would be comfortable enough to compose), he extended his dear 'wishes' for the great arts in all ways possible- new instruments, a theater, someone else's wife, you name it. (it's also hilarious to note the von bulow just gave up his lady to wagner, not even an attempt for a real fight. hmm. really. is that a compliment for wagner or von bulow?) but the point of differentiation (in comparison to the usual lines of men and women with enormous amount of power and wealth who rolled in gold) is that he actually managed to create a complete world beyond the norms of the nineteenth century. or the real life in general, including my own time, year 2009. mad scale operas. the opening prelude of the der ring des nibelungen: das rhinegold sill gives

for you, for another day that opens without me, as it is hard for me, it is hard for you. the slight suffering for waiting, somehow, unlike most pains, does not get easier by the day, however, intensifies whenever it takes hold of me and take a jab. a sharp short intense ice pick. it goes. then i wait for it. for the next prick. like an old arrhythmia. a short skip. with the joys you bring into my being, i cant complain but am only a fragile human being. with you, completely vulnerable. knowing that you hold all my being. its entire content. like anything else in life, i cant say for certain that this is new, or perhaps, i would be better off to cast it as the old story. as old as emotions go. the roots of every human being. intelligence tells me that i will be there soon as i could be as much as i want to be as you dare to hold me and make me yours as you bare yourself with no reservation as we can finally melt onto one another. whirl of fire and air. my heart tells me that i would di

early snowfall in the rockies. thanksgiving wknd. fallen leaves and lingering tails of nights. paler morning lights and fading afternoon sun. tis that time of the year again, though this recent time-leap into winter is rather unnerving. i felt as if i was transported through time, directly to chrismastide as i sat and had glass of port by the fires of farrally hall. i think it is perhaps the best thing i have done this fall term, to reside in farrally. hooray. human conditions- or should it be humane? anyways. as the first wk excitement turned into semi-concrete establishment of each individuals, i sense that people are taking a look around- not just the maps and locations of groceries and such, but of fellow residents. this artist colony is a fantasy magic world. we all escaped for a little, some longer than others, but same ideas: to leave the practical empirical world to be frivolous, impractical and fanciful. i keep thinking if one wants to be super efficient, the way to do it is d

current temperature -7'c. windchill -11'c. still about another 4cm to come. wind up to 20km/hr. expected lowest over night -13'c. it is the first real snow here in the mountains. no sprinkles, no sneak preview. a full out, proper snow. squick squick squick. compacting under the boots. the dark rubber soles of my boots are no longer visible, covered with this shades of fresh snow. but not totally innocent- it's got some bites. it's a proper snow, with a bit of steely sharpness. with that crisp smell that goes right up to the top of your head. cutting through the fuzzy head full of indoor air from artificial ventilation- which never changes, just as how its been set. exclusive- to be different from the surroundings, which are seen as comfortable, oddly enough. (how did we get so removed from living things? it's strange to live among the all things that are inanimate at times..) i went out of a jog this morning. couldnt decide where to go, so i started moving towar

instead of skipping up tunnel mountain, i have decided that i am going to try to go around flat trails, to northeast of banff center- which will get you to either bow falls or hoodoo trail. this was monkey resolution of two days ago. however, ive been foiled yesterday as i found some new tracks going up up up. so had to take it. needed to be done, or i would be left wondering the whole time. anyways. it turned out to be a light scramble up to the tunnel. so with a little surprise, i ended up doing tunnel yesterday. still not a bad thing. it was a nice find. you see, the trails i know are learned during mostly in winter time. snow and ice covered. barely visible path unless- well unless it is the path that everyone takes. not boring, however, predictable. so finding these little capillaries of trails in this autumnal sliver of time have been rather interesting. hence, i am determined or rather, undetermined to stick to a path, but to go wherever it ends up being. the mountains are so bi

winter had its first tease with monkey today. when i got up 645, the air was different. i have a bad habit of keeping the window cracked-open, just a bit.i know it's terrible for energy savings and stuff but since i keep my room at 17 ish i dont feel sooo bad... oooh (i mean, the lowest it'll get to is 15) seeing that the temperature wasnt too bad at all (4'c), i thought may be i should go enjoy it now before it all disappear (and most of it did by the evening boo) so this is farrally in early morning banff . see the magic cottage? and on the way up, i realized that i may be the first one up. the powder was fresh, not even a deer step on it. it made that squiiiick noise underneath the boots, compacting, melting. the only sound in the early morning snow magic. just barely detectable quartet of monkey steps, breath of cold but cozy wet air, occasional winds rustling through and heartbeats synced from here and afar. and while we may complain about freezing our ass

funny i havent even noticed that the days creeped up and went by right under my own eyes. it is october! rather than looking at some arbitrary calendar, however, i have been so luck to be reminded by the beautifully cold morning air. those air that freezes your boogers and bring a bit of tears first thing the morning. the air that makes to think: knee socks. and the low clouds and disappearing mountains. at times the cascades just outside my window plays hide and seek during winter. when the fluff clouds come down and cover them in ambiguity. only hints, or only memories of them across the thick air. and these fogs are not the same kind that one see in summer- hot, wet and heavy. these are proper autumnal fogs: cold, fresh, sharp. almost a week in banff have whizzed by and i casually just walked out from the first recording session. get music on monday. record first thing on friday. kinda tough no? much drama but am glad that it is out and done now and i think actually it will t